


Red in Green

by MissPilot



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Lethal White, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 16:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17186333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissPilot/pseuds/MissPilot
Summary: Set after Lethal White, this first piece of Fanfic is wishful thinking on my part. Robin and Strike are both single and Robin becomes frustrated with only the occasional bout of flirting. She wants more and decides to make it happen.





	1. The Truth

**Author's Note:**

> ‘Red in Green’ is set after Lethal White. I love these characters and the slow build of their relationship, so this rapidly sped up romance is my own version of what might happen when (if?) they get together. 
> 
> It probably goes without saying, but these characters and the setting belong to the author, Robert Galbraith/J K Rowling. I hope she wouldn’t mind me playing with them.

“Come on then! Spill!” 

Ilsa and Robin were thoroughly merry now and Robin shushed her friend, slopping her wine down a cushion as she gestured for her to keep her voice down. She grinned even as she rolled her eyes. “Spill what?!” she complained, feigning innocence. 

“I know you fancy the pants off him!” Thankfully Ilsa had kept her voice down this time, but the exaggerated stage whisper made Robin laugh. “And he feels the same way! Just look at the man when he comes back in”, she said, pointing first to the kitchen where Strike and Nick were getting beers and then to the seat her friend had occupied next to Robin on the sofa.

“OK! He’s a very attractive man. Very tractive. And he’s nice,” Robin admitted with a drunken nod. Ilsa looked delighted. “I do fancy him a bit.” Seeing the look on Ilsa’s face, she caved. “Alright, alright! A lot!” The pair howled with laughter and then each shushed the other into stifled giggles. 

“He’s so...broad and...strong!” Robin wailed quietly. I see all these successful, good looking men in smart suits who are perfectly good looking, but they’re just not...” She growled. “...grrrrr enough!” Ilsa clutched at her stomach at this, heaving forward in an almighty fit of giggles. “I daydream in the office about him picking me up and whisking me upstairs to his flat.” Ilsa seemed to have recovered herself and her eyebrows raised. 

“You have to tell him! Maybe not about the carrying bit,” she giggled, “He’d hurt his knee on those stairs, but just snog him or something. I want to see him happy and you happy. You could be so happy!”

“What are you two cackling about?” Nick asked as he and Strike weaved drunkenly back into the room. Strike let himself fall heavily into his seat next to Robin and the movement jostled them together. Strike put his arm round Robin automatically to steady her. She flushed slightly pink. 

“Sorry. Sorry.” He turned to her, slower than his sober self might have, to check she was ok. She was smiling, assessing the wine that had spilled as he’d landed.

“S’OK. S’only wine,” she reassured him fuzzily, licking the spill from her wrist. Looking at her deft tongue did funny things to Strike and he looked guiltily away. 

“I think Robin should get out there and shtart dating someone,” Ilsa announced drunkenly in answer. 

“I am ‘out there’ aren’t I? I’m out at your house!” 

“Yes, but are you sheeing anyone?” 

“Not right now, no!” There was hint of defensiveness in Robin’s voice. “No one’s asked me.” 

“You’re bloody gorgeous,” Nick said, aiming his reassuring comment at Robin, but raising a cautionary eyebrow at Strike as soon as she looked away. “You’ll be snapped up in no time.”


	2. Hangovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Monday after the weekend before.

On Monday, with Robin sat at her desk and Strike leaning against the end of it, they were able to joke about their drunkenness, comparing hangovers. She laughed at his description of himself emerging from his flat into daylight for cigarettes and food and he smiled indulgently as she relayed her hangover routine: she always had to eat something stodgy and then sit in a warm bath for at least half an hour. “Then I feel a bit more human,” she said. 

Strike knew from the way he’d felt yesterday that Robin would hardly have looked her best in her hungover state, but the thought of even a tired, slightly green Robin lounging naked in the bath was an image he enjoyed. 

“You should have text me to tell me about it. It might have made me feel better too.” Shit! Why had he said that? 

He was flirting with her, she realised. She flushed and slapped his knee gently with the back of her hand. “Oi, you! Haven’t you got work to do?” 

He was so relieved to see her smiling and just a little excited by her blush. His good knee tingled where she’d touched him, however briefly. “Yes boss!” He gave a mock salute as he sidled back into his office. 

Robin grinned. She loved this side of him. He could be so open and warm sometimes. It made all the times when he was grumpy and defensive worth it. Knowing he felt comfortable and relaxed around her where he might not with other people - other women - made her feel special. It gave her hope that she might be able to break through his defensive wall. That he might one day accept her help when he needed it. She’d make a good nurse, she decided, smiling at the thought of being able to kiss it better when he was tired or sore.


	3. Unknown Territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin takes a first step.

That night, Robin took a third glass of wine into her room and lay on her bed on her stomach, sipping and thinking about Strike. A warm glow spread through her at the memory of him flirting with her. Was it her turn? She might not be brave enough to do it face to face yet, but she could text him. She relished the thought of shocking him, of suddenly turning him on with her words. He probably thought she was so cute, so innocent. She smiled wickedly at the thought of surprising him and reached for her phone. She decided to open with something safe and friendly. She’d work up to sexy, she decided. “Hi, how did Jack’s school play go? Did he remember his lines?”

The first time that night that Strike’s phone had buzzed, he had picked it up and something inside him had given a pleasant little jolt at the sight of Robin’s name. Now they were texting back and forth so quickly that he didn’t need to put it down in-between. He sat spread out on the sofa in his little flat, smiling to himself and swigging from what he felt was a well-earned beer. He had been enjoying the easiness, the friendly warmth, of their relationship recently. He recounted what had happened at Jack’s school, joking about having had to sit on such tiny seats in the hall that his knees had been round his ears - which was hardly ideal for a man of his size or anyone with a prosthesis - and the dreadful singing from the younger students, but making sure to stress to Robin how well his nephew had done in the play. He had been proud. His screen scrolled and a new text appeared. 

“Can I ask you for an opinion? As a man, I mean?” 

“Last time I checked, I was indeed a man.” Was that too cheeky, he wondered? He didn’t want to drive her away. Her reply both puzzled and excited him. This wasn’t their usual territory. 

“What colour do men prefer to see on a woman?”

“In clothes you mean? I’ve always thought you suit green. Are you going somewhere nice?” he replied. 

With someone nice? he added mentally. The idea of her dressing for someone specially, of her going out with a man, made him feel angrily jealous. He had no right, he knew, but he dreaded her finding a new boyfriend. It was hard enough to watch men’s eyes turn towards her, looking her shapely figure up and down, each time they entered the Tottenham or when clients first met her, and he hoped she wouldn’t want to tell him all about this potential new boyfriend. He didn’t think he could bear to hear about someone else making her happy. He drifted into a daydream in which Robin wore the poison green dress he’d bought her at the conclusion of their first big case. 

Well aware that her bravery was Dutch courage and might not last, Robin finished the last of her wine, took a deep breath and prepared to cross a line she would never be able to uncross. “Maybe nowhere. Not sure yet. I meant these: which do you think most men would prefer?” She laid her props on the bed, very carefully so as to show them off in their best light while trying to make them look casually slung on the duvet, and snapped a picture.


	4. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cormoran gets the picture. Or does he?

Strike waited for the picture that he assumed would follow the text, brow furrowed. He was intrigued. When his screen scrolled up to accommodate the image, he swallowed quickly and sat upright, holding the screen close to examine it. 

“Fuck!” His breathy exclamation filled the flat, temporarily drowning out the TV that had been droning in the background, unnoticed. 

The underwear was of that lacy, silky type that women wore for effect rather than practicality. The bra and French knickers on the left of the picture were a rich navy blue while the thong and bra on the right were black. For a few moments, Strike let Robyn strut through his imagination wearing first the black and then the blue. The thought made his heart race. Why had she asked for his opinion on this? Was she flirting with him? Or rubbing his nose in a new relationship? Testing him? 

He racked his brain, desperate for a reply that would seem casual and relaxed but but also one that wouldn’t seem too keen. The thought of her knowing how rattled and excited she had made him made him cringe. 

Robin waited for a reply, at first excited by the fact that Strike was obviously taken aback and then worried that she’d gone too far. What if he berated her for being unprofessional? If he was offended or she had been wrong about his feelings for her? 

When her screen lit up, she grabbed for her phone. “I assume you’ll be wearing something over the top?”

“That’s the plan, yes,” she typed, breathing a sigh of both relief and disappointment. No opinion expressed, she noted. Perhaps she hadn’t gone far enough? Not sexy enough? The picture didn’t seem to have affected him at all. 

Their conversation continued, on safer topics now, and eventually Robin texted to say that she would have to sleep. They wished each other good night and both put down their phones, Robin rolling over in bed and Strike laying back on his sofa. 

I could just grab him and kiss him, Robin considered. Or come clean. Perhaps say, ‘Cormoran, I’d like to be more than your friend and if you don’t feel the same that’s fine.’ But it wouldn’t be fine. It would be embarrassing and it would crush her. 

Strike wondered too. Perhaps he should ask her out on a date? It’d have to be something personal - thoughtful - with Robin. A generic restaurant, bar or theatre trip wouldn’t do. She was so kind and intuitive and he liked to think he knew her well enough to plan something she deserved. But what would happen if she said no? Would she be able to respect a man who had made an unwanted advance? She wouldn’t show it, of course (Robin was too nice), but she might think of him differently. He settled for imagining Robin in the navy underwear for now. She was so beautiful. So sexy.


	5. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin feels jealousy over a client.

They made no mention of their text conversation in the office when they next met; clients kept them busy enough that snatched conversations in the hurried moments between meetings and surveillance were the only times they spoke. 

One of their many appointments the following day was with an attractive blonde who suspected that one of the men she employed was moonlighting for other companies. Robin read the interest in Strike’s eyes as he showed her into his office, but it wasn’t until they had concluded their meeting and Strike was showing her out that Robin really noticed just how taken with this woman he seemed to be. 

As Strike held open the inner door and watched her leave, Robin caught him glancing down at the woman’s shapely bottom. He was looking at her body! Jealousy sliced through her and she suddenly felt irrationally betrayed. She knew Strike didn’t belong to her, and didn’t owe her anything, but she had hoped he might notice her interest before long. And here he was checking out a client! She hid her annoyance by delving deep into one of her lower desk draws, apparently searching for something very difficult to find. She wished he’d go out so that she could sulk in peace. 

Strike had admired the body of the woman walking away from their office - she was very attractive - but had also thought, in a melancholy way, that she wasn’t as perfectly put together as Robin. He took the opportunity to look closely at Robin while she couldn’t see him. Her arse was definitely the nicest he’d ever seen, he thought sadly, watching her bending over to reach the low drawer. I’m going to be guilty of workplace harassment at this rate, he chided himself. Strike cleared his throat. “So then, when’s the big night?” 

“Hmm?” Luckily, she was still pretending to be absorbed in the contents of the drawer so Strike didn’t see her look of confusion. Robin didn’t know what he was talking about.

“The man you’ve been thinking of going out with. You said you were seeing him soon?” 

Ah, yes. The other night, when she asked him about the underwear, she’d alluded to a certain someone. Far too subtly, it seemed. His interest in their client and her bottom still stung. Why not let him think she was going to go out with someone else if he was so disinterested in her? Determined, Robin sat up, facing him with the cheeriest most casual expression she could muster. 

“I’m thinking Friday night,” she said. His features tightened. Hah! He was jealous. Good, she thought. 

“Doing anything exciting?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m thinking we might just stay in with a bottle or two.”

Strike’s imagination took him where he definitely didn’t want to go: Robin in some handsome young man’s flat, where she laughed at his jokes about the stock market and the idiotic people from his office and he put his hand on her leg. 

“This fella you’re into - you should find out what he drinks.”

“Oh, I know what he drinks. I’m getting to know him pretty well.” Or so I thought, she added bitterly to herself. 

There was a pause. “Right then, I’m off to meet Shanker about that bloke from Hounslow. Do we need anything while I’m out?” 

Robin shook her head. “No, I’m nipping to the shops to return something on the way to my appointment with that new client this afternoon so I’ll go into the bank with the cheque from Mrs Wright.” 

She returned to the safety of her hiding place in her drawer. With one final look at her behind, Strike headed out. She seemed a bit off with him, he thought. Not her usual warm self. 

Robin stewed in her jealous feelings until it was time to leave the office that afternoon. Strike still hadn’t returned. She picked up her handbag, checked she had the underwear she needed to return, the receipt and the cheque and stalked out into the stairwell. 

She was still feeling fed up when she reached the shop. Perhaps she should swap her purchases for something sensible? She needed a new sports bra and they probably sold them here. Then something caught her eye.


	6. A helping hand.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin meets Strike on her way back.

Robin was feeling a little better on her way back to the office. She had quite enjoyed a second trip to the lingerie shop and it had left her feeling a little more confident. As she walked down Denmark street, she heard a low familiar voice. “Get everything done?” Strike sounded casual and friendly as usual. She hid her purchase behind her as she turned to answer, conscious of its distinctive bag, and wasn’t watching her step. One of her heels slipped and she felt it wedge into the grating covering a drain. 

“Bugger!” She’d had to stop abruptly mid stride, and Strike caught the arm that she’d flung out to catch herself. She sighed in frustration and embarrassment, and Strike smiled sympathetically. He watched her try to remove the heel from its trap, but it wouldn’t come loose. “Fuck!”

She must be really annoyed now, he knew. As she bent to undo the shoe, contemplating standing in the street in only one while Strike laughed at her trying to pry the other loose, he got there first. He grunted slightly as he knelt, trying not to put too much pressure on his bad knee, and eased her heel out from where it had stuck. His hands on her foot and ankle were gentle but firm and she was suddenly very glad she’d shaved and moisturised her legs. 

“There!” He sounded pleased with a job well done, but as he smiled up at her there was a moment made awkward by his hands on her skin and his closeness. 

She mumbled her thanks and offered her hand to help him up. Perhaps because she’d just been so vulnerable in front of him, he took it and she helped him to his feet. The tension was still there as he stood, still holding her hand, and the disconcerted look he gave her, his eyes flitting from her hand to her eyes, made butterflies circle her stomach. 

Strike was glad that Robin had pretended not to notice his limp as they walked the rest of the way together in companionable silence, but he was also grateful when he heard the microwave ping and she wordlessly placed a heated pad on his desk along with a cup of tea.


	7. Friday Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday night arrives. As does Robin.

With a whole weekend ahead of him with only one bit of surveillance on Sunday to keep him busy, Strike sat in front of his tv again on Friday night feeling flat. He wished Robyn would text, but she was probably out (or in, he shuddered) with this man she’d been getting to know. Jealousy gnawed at him. 

He could go to the Tottenham, he supposed. No, he might get really drunk and ring her given the mood he was in. He’d probably confess his undying love and then not be able to look her in the face on Monday. There was no beer in the fridge here so he was relatively safe. Perhaps he should put his phone in a draw somewhere and read? Remove all temptation to disturb her and try not to think about what she might be doing. What she might be wearing. 

The knock at the door startled him. Given that the buzzer hadn’t sounded from downstairs, the only people it could be were people with keys, and that meant his neighbours or Robin. Her date might have gone badly. The thought made him limp to the door a little more quickly. If that prick had hurt her, he would strangle him and enjoy it.

Sure enough, it was Robin, but she looked far from upset. Her red-gold hair was arranged in gentle curls, her eyes were carefully painted and she was smiling, although she did seem a little...nervous? Unsure? 

“Hi!” She was glad to see she’d pleasantly surprised him. He stepped back to let her in. She was wearing a belted cream trench coat and Strike noted the click of high heels as she moved; he looked down at her legs. She always looked so sexy in heels. She looked sexy in anything, he corrected himself. “I thought you were going to see someone tonight?” he asked, cautiously. 

“I am. I can go if I’m disturbing you?”

“No, not at all,” he said, hurriedly moving his book from the sofa and gesturing her to sit. “Are you on your way there? You look...beautiful.” It was true. She did. She had stepped forward towards him as he had turned to tuck the book back on its shelf, but she hadn’t sat. 

“I’m not on my way. I’m here.”

“Sorry, you’ve lost me. Am I missing something?” He was baffled by her words, but the way she was looking at him was intoxicating. 

He looked so lost, so unsure, that she felt more confident now. Sure she’d done the right thing. They were about to pass the point of no return, from where she would no longer be able to explain away her visit and excuse herself with some cover story. She was going to do it, she decided.


	8. Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin makes a lasting impression.

“I’m here to see you, Cormoran.” Her voice was soft but clear and she stepped towards him. “I brought Doom Bar. And wine for me.” He took the proffered bag, glad of the excuse to turn to the fridge in his awkwardness. What was going on? 

When he turned back, she was smiling. She looked exactly the opposite of him at that moment: confident and assured. “I know what you drink, Cormoran.” She stepped closer, her gaze intense and her hand reaching to undo the belt of her coat. “I know you like me in green, not blue or black.” 

Suddenly he knew what she was wearing underneath the trench coat and why she was here. The realisation was like a physical, stunning blow. She wanted him. She was here in his flat to end all the tension that had hung between them; in that moment he was both the most aroused he’d ever been and the most shocked. She was undoing the buttons. 

As she opened the coat, Robin read his feelings in his face. She was elated. Her Cormoran wanted her, needed her, and she had managed to surprise him. He stood, stunned, and looked down at her body in the emerald green bra and knickers. She saw need and longing in his eyes and they flicked back to hers to gaze at her. He was still planted to the floor in shock. 

“Fuck!” It was a whisper. There was nothing else he was capable of saying. 

“No? Not interested?” she teased. With a mischievous smile she wrapped the coat around her, tying the belt rather than doing the buckle, and strode quickly towards the door. “Well, I’ll see you on Monday then,” she said over her shoulder.


	9. In the Hall.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike acts.

Strike was stood, not breathing, for a few seconds before the feeling returned to both his legs and his brain at the same time. He leapt for the entrance, calling her name and collided with her just outside the door. 

She was laughing now, and they moved towards each other in the same instant. The door slammed behind him and he reached a hand to her cheek to bring her mouth to his. As they kissed, hungrily, she gripped the front of his T-shirt to pull him closer to her. He pushed her against the railings of the stairs with his body and she delighted in the feel of him against her. She slid her hands under his T-shirt and around to his back and pressed herself against him as hard as she could. Strike pulled back, scared of squashing her, but she pulled him into her and a low groan of pleasure, almost a growl, escaped him. It felt so good to know that she wanted him next to her and to be able to finally show her how he felt. 

The kiss was urgent, desperate, and their tongues mingled and their lips moved in searching rhythms. He slid a hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her towards him with the other wound around her. 

He felt bereft when Robin pressed on his chest to create distance between them, but as he stepped back and looked down he saw that she was undoing the belt again. Her hastily tied knot came free, she opened the coat and she wrapped it round him, trapping him next to her bare skin. He swore again, put both hands on her buttocks under the coat and pressed his election against her. Robin gasped, released from his kiss temporarily. “I think we should be on the other side of the door, Cormoran.”

He covered her mouth with his again and reached back to open the door, pulling her with him, not wanting any distance between them now that there didn’t have to be any. They nearly fell into his flat and she pushed him down onto his sofa, straddling him and opening the coat once again. His lips travelled from her mouth down to her breasts and he kissed the smooth skin there, running his tongue under the edge of her bra to lick at her nipple. She groaned with need. She needed him naked now. She stood up, climbing away from the hands clutching her bottom and slipped off her trench coat. 

Pulling him along with her, she reached under the hem of his T-shirt to pull it up and over his head. She backed into his bedroom, him kissing her and his hands exploring her body. They landed in a tangled heap on his bed and she laughed. She kicked off her shoes. “Trousers off! Now!” 

His trousers came off quickly, but as he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his prosthesis his fingers shook and he fumbled. He would have to slow down if he wanted to give Robin an experience to remember. She had only ever slept with Matthew as far as he knew and Strike doubted that he had been very concerned about making Robin feel good. The thought of being able to give her pleasure nearly sent him over the edge and he turned back to her, his breathing ragged.


	10. Need

They rolled together on the bed, kissing and touching, and Strike rolled on top of her. For a moment he planted his hands either side of her and looked down at her. “You are so beautiful. I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.” He smiled and she found her face forming a wide grin too. 

“Me too.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Well you didn’t either!” Robin gestured for Strike to move and he rolled over, making sure her skin stayed in contact with his as he moved. Robin straddled him again, and he watched as she removed the emerald bra. She moved his hands up to her breasts. He cupped and stroked them gently and Robin let out a low moan as he ran the pads of his thumbs lightly over her now erect nipples. 

She swung her leg over him so that she was kneeling next to him now and dropped the green knickers to the floor. She was naked in front of him and, as far as Strike was concerned, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

She reached for the waist band of his boxers, but Strike took gentle hold of her hands to stop her pulling them down. “Not yet,” he said. He sat up on his elbows and kissed her. 

“No fair,” Robin teased, straddling him again and moving her hips to rub her body up and down the clearly visible outline of his penis. She was both excited and a little nervous about its size. It often took Robin time to relax that Matthew hadn’t wanted to spend and she was well used to sex being uncomfortable. Strike was bigger than Matthew, although Robin felt more than ready having waited for this all day. 

She’ll have to stop that or I won’t make it to taking my pants off, Strike thought. She felt far too good rubbing against him and he could tell by the look on her face that him being so close to bursting was turning her on too. “Come here.” He sat up, lifting Robin gently to one side and coming to rest on top of her, his mouth level with her breasts. He licked and sucked there while he gently explored her body with his right hand, leaning on his left. She moaned, panted and squirmed under him. He stroked the length of her torso, then his hand travelled down the inside of Robin’s leg. 

Slowly moving down, Strike kissed his way past Robins belly button. When he reached her pubis he stopped, looking up at her with a warm smile. She arched against him as he softly stroked and then kissed the inside of her thighs and the flat of her stomach. Slowly spiralling towards her centre, he worked his way towards her clitoris. Robin inhaled sharply as he licked her slowly with the flat of his tongue. As he enjoyed her, she began to dissolve. She wasn’t aware of the mewling noises she made or of her grip on the bed sheet; all she sensed was pleasure, building and growing. 

Robin had never felt anything like it and she never wanted it to end, but the pressure building within her was threatening to break through now and she wanted to be filled with the man she loved. “Cormoran,” she panted.


	11. Wow!

She had to say no more. He loved hearing his name on her lips, but hearing it forced from her in pleasure made him rush to her. She looked flushed and a little drunk when he moved up to look at her face, and his face showed a note of concern for a moment. She smiled, pulling him into a kiss to reassure him and spoke softly in his ear as he kissed her neck, her collar bone and her jaw. “I need you inside me, Cormoran.” 

He swore again at the power she had over his body. He removed his boxers, put on a condom from the draw next to the bed and manoeuvred so that he was pressing against her wetness. Their eyes were locked as he pushed gently into her, but the look of sheer pleasure and love on her face made him close his eyes and bury his head in her neck in concentration. He must last long enough to give her what she deserved. What he most wanted to give to her. 

Robin felt so filled, so complete that she was all sensations again. Strike was bigger in every way than she had been used to but she was so ready, so desperate, for this that her body thrilled at the feeling of him inside her. As he moved further up the bed, willing himself to go slowly, his body pressed against her clitoris and she moaned and gripped the back of his neck and one buttock, trying to draw him still closer. 

Taking his cue, grateful that she felt the pleasure he had so wanted to give, he started to move in a steady rhythm, looking at her once again and watching for signs that she was reaching a peak. 

It wasn’t long before Robin’s gasps changed and he knew that he didn’t have to hold back any longer. He let go, kissing her gently and allowing his climax to build with hers. As she came, Robin’s mouth moved in soundless exclamations and her eyes fluttered open and closed. Only at the end of her climax did she cry out, clinging to him and enjoying the guttural noise that came from between Strike’s gritted teeth as pleasure exploded from him. 

They lay in a tangled, sweaty heap, both breathing heavily. Strike tried to move, worried he might be too heavy to lie on her, but Robin gripped him and smiled. She loved his weight on her and the feel of him inside her. Instead he raised up on his elbows and stroked the hair from her face, kissing her nose, eyes and cheeks very softly. 

“You are a very talented man, Cormoran Strike.” She beamed at him and he laughed. The movement made him finally slip from inside her and they both laughed then. 

When her face became more serious again, she stroked his cheek. “I mean it. I’ve never felt like that before. I mean...wow!”

“Wow? Really?” His mock smugness was so silly that she rolled her eyes. Then he too was serious. “I’d like to make you feel like that a lot, if you don’t mind?” 

“Please! I love you, Cormoran.”

“I love you so much, Robin.” 

She was disappointed when he rolled away, but he pulled her over to lie on top of him, tucking her on his chest with her head under his chin. She stroked his chest and he stroked the length of her long red-gold hair. 

Love had thoroughly loosened his tongue. “I was so jealous when I thought you were going out with someone else tonight.” He angled his face down to look at her. “I’ve been mad about you since I first nearly killed you on the stairs that day!” 

“Since that day, I’ve been engaged, I got married and then I got divorced. But it was tonight that made you jealous?” She giggled in disbelief, so happy to hear that her feelings had been returned after all.

“Well, I felt had to hide how I felt about Matthew too.” His voice was low and almost threatening. “When he hurt you, I could have quite cheerfully hurt him.”

“Well I’m glad you didn’t. You were there for me when I needed you. You’re always there when I need you. I’m no fan of Charlotte’s either, you know. She is the most intimidating woman I’ve ever met!”

“Intimidating? In what way?” Strike sounded genuinely confused. 

“She’s gorgeous, and she had such a hold on you. I could never compete with her.” 

“You’d never have to.” He stroked her hair and pulled her closer, crushing her to his chest. “You’re so much more...beautiful. Alive. You’re strong and clever. And sane!” They laughed, and Robin tried to soak up every minute.


	12. Aftermath

They lay like that, talking and touching, enjoying each other, until Strike’s stomach rumbled noisily. 

“Uh oh! He needs feeding!” She climbed over him, trying to get up. 

“He needs you more.” He grabbed her and pulled her back in to a bear hug. “I can eat anytime.”

“Well now you can have me anytime!” She kissed him and got up, twisting her hair up into a messy knot on her head. 

Strike liked the sound of that. He grinned like a fool as she made her way to the bathroom. 

They ate, drank the beer and wine that Robin had brought and returned to bed. The next morning they showered and then Robin coaxed him back to bed again. 

She traced featherlight kisses down his body, then knelt between his knees and carried on kissing the inside of his muscular thighs. Normally a little flustered by someone being so close to his legs, Strike groaned as she turned her attention to his length, clasping it in her hand and then licking gently at the head. She cupped his balls, stroking gently and then lifting them as she took more of him into the warm wetness of her mouth. Her other hand wrapped around him, moving in time with her mouth and he groaned loudly. 

As he felt his release building, he spoke through gritted teeth. “Robin, you’re going to make me...Robin!” 

She slowed her hand until the pressure abated a little and kissed his thigh, looking up at him with a confident smile. “Good! Lie back and enjoy it then!” 

She wanted him to come in her mouth, he realised, and the thought sped him on. The orgasm that ripped through him made him groan and writhe on the bed, but she stayed with him, stroking his thighs and swallowing with him deep in her mouth. When he quieted she came up to lie next to him. He gathered her to him and breathed his gratitude and admiration into her ear. Thank goodness the temping agency had placed her in his office.


End file.
